


A Matter of Expediency

by Just_Another_Day



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Arrogance, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Obliviousness, POV Outsider, Post-Canon, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-08-05 09:49:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16365584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Just_Another_Day/pseuds/Just_Another_Day
Summary: Honestly, who wouldn't recognise the resplendent King Laurent of Vere and Acquitart the moment they saw him?





	A Matter of Expediency

"Marlas? You serious? You gone and got yourself into trouble with the Crown now, have you?" Willelm asked. 

Anyone hereabouts who heard that Fabrice had been called to the new capital would assume that sort of thing. Everyone knew that Fabrice's father had rarely been able to keep his nose clean for two days at a stretch and assumed Fabrice was cut from the same cloth. Fabrice, however, had long ago resolved to do everything he could to be the exact opposite of his father, right down to learning how to talk more like the toffs who lorded it over everyone from the highest towers of their forts, hoping that might make them more likely to consider hiring his services. The only thing Fabrice had allowed himself to inherit from the man who'd ostensibly raised him were the skills of his trade. But where his father had let those skills languish, Fabrice was intent on perfecting them. He would be a proper merchant, not a slosh of a shopkeeper who barely remembered the distant idea of either sobriety or success.

And now he was finally seeing the fruits of all that labour, it seemed.

"Whatever gossip you've been investing in isn't worth the copper you paid for it," Fabrice scoffed. "I'm not in any kind of dire straits. Just the opposite. I've managed to secure a palace contract." 

"You've done what now? What on earth could they need the likes of _you_ for?" Willelm remarked suspiciously. "There've got to be a hundred glassblowers or more already trying to ply their wares in Delfeur, and you ain't special enough to have to ship you in."

Once Fabrice earned the generous haul of coins he'd been promised for this new royal contract and used them to clear the last of the debts he'd inherited, perhaps he would look into moving from the old shop he'd taken over when the drinking finally took his father down. Fabrice would be glad for a more upscale neighbourhood, where the other vendors wouldn't disparage his work just because they were intimidated by the unrivalled quality of what Fabrice produced. He certainly wouldn't miss Willelm popping next door to poke his nose in where it didn't belong any time Willelm's own business was slow.

"I'm reliably informed that the new palace is in dire need of new lamp covers, and that the King himself insisted that no one's work but mine would do," Fabrice replied. He wasn't boasting, of course. That kind of behaviour was for lesser men. Fabrice's work spoke for itself.

"You saying the King himself saw your stuff and decided that he liked it? Dream on."

"I did some work for the steward of Ravenel a few weeks ago. My stained-glass window was far superior to the one I had to replace, if I do say so myself. Why shouldn't the King have noticed it on a visit and inquired about it?"

"Maybe because the King hasn't visited Ravenel since he became King in the first place," Willelm countered smugly. 

Not that they knew of, true, though Fabrice had heard rumours that the King sometimes slipped away from his Guards and his retinue when he was travelling, so his presence might not have been announced. But even without all the fanfare, Fabrice couldn't imagine the King's presence wouldn't have been noticed. Honestly, who wouldn't recognise the resplendent King Laurent of Vere and Acquitart the moment they saw him? 

So he let the matter drop by simply saying, "Then perhaps some Lord who _did_ visit Ravenel saw my work and recommended me to him."

Willelm snorted in apparent disbelief at the likelihood of that. But if he had anything else negative to say then Fabrice didn't hear it. He was too busy directing his apprentice, Robert, to pack up the necessary supplies and do an inventory before the morning. Luckily for Robert's chances of getting a full night's sleep, he didn't need to organise their travel to Marlas as well. That was already taken care of. The King had arranged a carriage and two wagons for Fabrice's use. Fabrice wasn't entirely sure what to make of that show of kindness, but he was hardly going to refuse it.

Marlas was only two days' travel, but that was long enough for Fabrice to appreciate the comfort of the high-quality carriage, which might almost have cost more than Fabrice's whole house by the look and feel of it. He certainly appreciated arriving at the palace feeling relatively fresh rather than worn and dusty from hard travel on the road.

Not that it would have really mattered either way. Fabrice might have been nominally hired by the King, but of course Fabrice wasn't to be introduced to the King on arrival the way a dignitary would have been. He might never meet the King in person at all the whole time he was in the palace. Fabrice should really be alright with that. It should be more than enough that the King had singled him out among, as Willelm had pointed out, probably hundreds of options, many of them more convenient to him. But Fabrice was still somewhat disappointed not to be able to at least have ten seconds to bow and thank the man for his custom.

Fabrice had to share the rooms that were set aside for him with Robert, but they were so expansive compared to the accommodations Fabrice was used to that it almost seemed like the two of them might never have run into each other at all even if they spent all day locked up in there together. As it was, they had better things to do than while away the hours like that. There was important work to be done.

They were called on to meet with the man who would supervise their work early the morning after their arrival. The man who met them was dressed in some strange amalgamation of fashions, covered from wrist to ankle as per Veretian custom, but with no jacket. Probably in deference to the warmer climate, he was wearing a loose breathable shirt that almost resembled a Patran tunic tucked into his trousers, with laces only appearing in short lines at the wrists and nowhere else. The design was simple, but even though Fabrice's eyes were trained more to assess glass rather than cloth, even to him the material spoke of expense. This was someone of high position, no doubt. One of the King's representatives, most likely. Fabrice had to assume so because the man made no effort to introduce himself or his role, and Fabrice could not seem to find the right occasion to ask without it seeming rude to do so.

Truthfully, if the man hadn't spoken Veretian so perfectly, Fabrice would have assumed by looking at him that this was some Akielon pleasure slave who'd been repurposed when the savages had finally taken their cues from their more progressive new allies and admitted that human beings should not be owned. Or, had he been much older, he could easily have been a retired nobleman's pet, but he was still by far young enough that he would still be at the height of his popularity had he ever been in that line of work. He could have earned a fortune with a face like that. More than he could as a mere assistant to the King, certainly. But Fabrice did understand the desire to break away from expectations and create a legitimate career for oneself, so he didn't mention the seemingly squandered opportunity.

The man took them into a room that resembled an airy workshop, far superior to what Fabrice and Robert had to make do with back home. Their equipment had already been brought in, presumably by the same servants who'd taken their luggage to their rooms. The King's assistant showed them the metal lamp frames and described his vision for the glass lamp covers they would be constructing to fit.

"These frames don't look new," Fabrice said, affronted on the King's behalf. Fabrice had no intention of letting the King unknowingly receive substandard goods, especially if his own glass was to be paired with it.

"Oh, it's not. The existing lamps themselves are still perfectly serviceable. But it's the strangest thing," the King's assistant said blithely. "The glass in the oil lamps all over the palace somehow keeps getting smashed."

Concerned, Fabrice asked, "Do you think it's foul play? Someone trying to burn down the palace, perhaps? Is the King at risk?" 

The assistant looked strangely amused, considering the seriousness of the topic. "That would be a remarkably ambitious strategy. And a foolish one, considering that most of the palace is made of marble, which isn't exactly highly flammable. Though I'm sure broken glass would make a fair assassination weapon in a pinch, if someone wanted to attack the King that way. It would be difficult to trace its origins and link it to any one individual. And I imagine you could stab someone with it just as well as with a knife." 

It was strange to see someone so angelically innocent in appearance speak so casually of the concept of murder, especially when it was of his employer and ruler.

"You could only really use it that way if the glass were thick enough," Fabrice found himself saying. He probably shouldn't talk about something so illicit, but… well, the only real entertainment in the neighbourhood Fabrice had grown up in had been gossip, and Fabrice had never really grown out of the habit. "In fact," Fabrice said, lowering his voice secretively, "I hear there was this one fellow staying at Ravenel recently who survived having a shard of glass stuck in him because it snapped off before it could go deep enough to do real damage."

"I heard the same," the King's assistant said. "Though that was about all I heard of it. Ravenel closed their doors to visitors after the attack, and insist on investigating the matter themselves. It's all very secretive. Makes you wonder what they might have to hide, doesn't it?"

"Oh, really?" Fabrice asked, taken aback. He hadn't realised. News from the fort didn't always make it to the village, but Fabrice would have thought he would have heard about it when he'd been inside working on the window to replace the one that the assailant had broken to get into the fort. Though he supposed he'd been busy at the time, and the work had been too elaborate to allow himself to get distracted. Everyone inside the fort had probably been too occupied for gossip as well, dealing with the attempted murder of some important visitor or other. But he supposed if they'd clammed up like that, that would mean that Fabrice was one of the few people who didn't live in the fort who'd set foot inside it in recent weeks. He stood a little taller, feeling important, and mentioned as much, explaining how he'd been called in to replace the window.

"Yes, I heard that was your work. Immaculate, was how I heard it described." 

Fabrice suspected he might actually be physically glowing with pleasure. 

"But it must have been terrible having to wade through all that shattered glass from the break-in so that you could get to work."

"Not really," Fabrice said. "Almost all of it fell outside the walls."

"Outside. Really," the King's assistant said. "Well that was lucky for you, wasn't it. Not quite as lucky for certain other people, though."

Yes, Fabrice thought, the poor groundsmen were probably still fishing coloured shards of glass out from the flowerbeds even now. He spared a pitying thought for them.

He and Robert were left to start their work after that. Robert took charge of turning the glass molten in preparation while Fabrice then did the more intricate work of blowing and shaping it into a beautiful product. 

There were quite a few lamps that needed replacement covers, apparently, and Fabrice insisted on absolute perfection for the King, so it took nearly three whole days to complete the work. When the last item had cooled and set, and after Fabrice had had sufficient time to cool himself down after slaving away in the room with a hot furnace all day, Fabrice went in search of the King's assistant to get him to check the last batch of Fabrice's work. Though Fabrice already knew for sure that the pieces would pass muster, just as the previous two days' work had, for otherwise Fabrice would never have offered them up for inspection in the first place. There wouldn't be any need to redo any of them. Not a chance.

So by tomorrow, he and Robert would be in the luxury carriage once more, on their way back home with the pay from this job weighing down their pockets. Fabrice still wished there was some way he could maybe just catch a glimpse of the King before he went, even if he wasn't allowed to actually meet him.

When Fabrice found the King's assistant, it wasn't where or what he expected when he'd set out searching.

It was only the flash of blond out of the corner of his eye that made Fabrice look inside the room, which the vast array of books would attest was some kind of library. Then he got far more than a flash of skin, for there were expanses of it on display. Both the pale skin of the King's assistant and the much darker skin of a man who was clearly Akielon. The way they looked at and touched each other without any particular deference on either side suggested they were equal in rank. Perhaps that meant that the other man was the Akielon King's assistant.

They were equals in the degree of their handsomeness as well, though it presented in very different ways for each. Together, they made for quite the attractive contrast. Rich men would likely give away their fortunes to witness a performance between them if they were pets to be displayed. Fabrice obviously wasn't going to deny himself when it was free.

He watched as hands strayed and lips met. Bodies slid against each other, straining, slickened with the glisten of sweat from the warm spring afternoon. Even hovering in the doorway, Fabrice could hear sighing sounds as clearly as if they were being breathed into his own ear. He also heard something rumbled in Akielon in a way that made him a little weak-kneed even though he couldn't understand the words. 

Then, as things escalated, he saw the Veretian whisper into his companion's ear, and then he watched as the Akielon reached out for the unlit oil lamp on the reading table and very purposefully crunched it against the ground.

"It was you two!" Fabrice cried out his realisation before he could stop himself. "You're the ones who've been breaking the lamps!"

The assistant's Akielon paramour had been in the process of coating his fingers in the lamp's oil, but now looked mortified and was trying to find some way to cover himself with his discarded clothing. Good luck to him, Fabrice thought; those scraps of material Akielons wore barely covered anything even when they were draped 'properly', let alone when they were practically scrunched into a ball in an overly-large fist. The King's assistant, on the other hand, didn't look bothered by his nakedness. Nor was he visibly remorseful or embarrassed at being caught red-handed as complicit in the destruction of palace property.

"So what if we have been?" the King's assistant challenged. "You should be thanking me for providing you with the opportunity for well-paying work."

Well yes, Fabrice thought, it _was_ true that he otherwise would never have had the opportunity to come to the palace to do this job.

"If it makes you feel any better, the King is not bothered by the sacrifice of a few lamps in the name of practicality."

The Akielon made a noise like a choked laugh.

Fabrice's surprise finally gave way to his usual entrepreneurial instincts. "Practicality, you say? You know, I could give you a very good deal on stoppered bottles for your oils. And we could add in some nice little single-use ones to carry on you as well so you're never caught without."

The King's assistant chuckled. "Could you? I suppose we _are_ running out of those terribly ugly old lamps to use for that purpose, and I'd hate to break the lovely new ones you've put together for us." 

The Akielon said flatly, "You showed me the new ones. They look identical to the old ones." 

Fabrice made a stifled sound of outrage. His work was of far superior quality to whatever some Akielon hack had supplied to Marlas in the past! 

Thankfully, the King was the kind of man who would only hire on an assistant of discernment and taste. "The old ones weren't from Alier," the King's assistant said, as if that were all he needed to say about it. Fabrice quite agreed. Fabrice liked to think that he was more than doing his part to make certain the region of Alier remained synonymous with quality when it came to glass. 

To Fabrice himself, the assistant said, "I'll check your work later, and then send along your payment assuming there are no deficiencies."

Fabrice knew a dismissal when he heard one. He supposed they probably wanted to be rid of him so that they could hurry up and get back to their rendezvous before their respective employers missed them. He supposed it was hard to find free time when you served at the pleasure of Kings.

As Fabrice walked away, he heard the Akielon say to the King's assistant, "You do understand that you're within your rights to just outright summon people to Marlas to question them, don't you? There was really no need to come up with some elaborate and expensive excuse to do so."

Fabrice glanced back just before he rounded the corner and caught sight of a smile that made the blond look more beautiful than ever. The King's assistant said, "But where would be the fun in that?"

When Fabrice and Robert arrived back into the village just before nightfall two days later, the whole place seemed to be just dying down from an uproar. Fabrice soon found out that the latest news from Ravenel was that the steward, Hestal – former advisor to Lord Touars and more recent legal trustee for the future lord Thevenin – had been arrested for the recent attempted murder within Ravenel's walls. Apparently, he'd paid a servant to smash the window to make it look like a break in and had tried to cover the whole thing up by controlling the 'investigation' himself. Obviously not successfully enough.

Honestly, Fabrice thought with a sigh, it could be worse. He had at least had a nice all-expenses-paid trip, been well-reimbursed for his work, and even wrangled another contract out of it as well. But he'd still gone and tragically half-missed the opportunity for choice gossip.

It _would_ be the one time he was out of town that something interesting actually happened. And now no one was going to think that his story about walking in on the King's helper and his lover was at all interesting by comparison. Typical.

**Author's Note:**

> I loved getting a ridiculous outsider perspective on these boys so much in Adventures of Charls that I decided I wanted more, though with someone who didn't know either of their identities this time. Plus, I couldn't resist the opportunity to have a little CSI: Marlas action going on in the background (and going way over poor Fabrice's head).


End file.
